


Worn Down Toys

by tentacledicks



Series: Glamorous Indie Rock & Roll [2]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Double Penetration, Drugged Sex, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27791626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentacledicks/pseuds/tentacledicks
Summary: Scott can't stop thinking about that hint of affection, can’t stop wondering if it's real or imagined. Can't help but hope the protective way Evfra watches Jaal might translate into something else, and maybe, just maybe, Scott might get the slightest drop of it for himself too.“Stay?” he asks, catching Evfra’s hand before it can fully disengage. It's a surprising display of dexterity considering that Scott can't keep himself on his feet without assistance. “With us?”Scott forgets that Kadara is still home to some of the worst dregs of society and gets a nasty reminder.
Relationships: Jaal Ama Darav/Evfra de Tershaav/Male Ryder | Scott
Series: Glamorous Indie Rock & Roll [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925356
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Worn Down Toys

The barrel of the M-3 is cool as he presses it against his temple, metal warming quickly enough that he pulls it away only a few minutes later. Presses it close again when the air conditioning in Tartarus eats the heat out of it, just because he needs that spot of cold. His skin is too hot, a thin sheen of sweat soaking through his clothes under the jacket he wore in lieu of armor. Big mistake, coming to Kadara without armor on. Should’ve remembered that.

There’s still music, but not in his bubble. He _knows_ it’s gotta be pissing the owner of the bar off, but Scott can’t help it, not when he’s down here alone and has no way of asking SAM to send a message up, doesn’t even know what he’d ask for if he did. Backup. Relief. Jaal.

He drags in a sharp breath through his teeth, thinking of Jaal, and registers dimly that SAM’s talking to him. The drug, whatever it is, makes it hard to concentrate, hard in a way that it usually isn’t, and Scott really, really wishes he’d remembered that he was a fucking omega before walking into this bar. That’s what being the Pathfinder did. It made him forget important little things like that.

“Pathfinder,” SAM repeats patiently, and Scott actually hears him this time. “Cora is only a minute away. You will need to drop the shield to let her in.”

“Can’t,” he grits out, pushing the pistol to his brow because otherwise he’ll point it at everyone _else_ in the bar and just start firing. Didn’t wear armor down here but he brought a gun, so maybe he’s not that dumb after all. Just dumb enough to drink something without checking it first, just dumb enough to get caught up talking to someone and not looking at what he was putting in his mouth, just dumb enough to throw every fucking alpha in the room when he realized what the liquid fire in his belly actually was.

Funny how no one ever expects him to be a biotic. Yeah, he’s not Cora, but he’d been one even before Dad passed the mantle on. SAM just makes it easier.

A shudder rolls through him, his hips rocking down against the hard seat of the bar stool on instinct, and Scott _hates_ himself with a viciousness that’s overwhelming for a second. He knows he’s the shit twin, he knows he’s the most useless Ryder of the lot, he _knows_ , okay? He didn’t have to be reminded of it in the most pointed way possible, with SAM ticking away in the background trying to figure out what chemical heat inducer these outlaws had figured out a way to synthesize since the last time he was on Kadara. His underwear is soaked and he has to be pheremone-bombing the whole bar by now, not that any of the non-human patrons have any fucking clue what’s going on. They just know that there’s a human sitting at the bar, biotic shield up high and vicious around him, who keeps tapping a gun against his own head and then not pulling the trigger.

When Reyes hears about this—and Scott knows he’s going to hear about this—he’d better come to the right conclusions, and he’d better come to them before _Scott_ comes to _him_. Because handing Kadara Port over to the Collective meant making Kadara safer for the Initiative and the angara, and making Kadara safer for them means making it safer for omegas too. If someone’s figured out a way to replicate some of the more fucked up date rape drugs from Earth, that needs to be dealt with immediately.

Mostly immediately. Maybe after Scott’s had a chance to find Jaal, up on the ship with Evfra, who smells like a fucking _god_ , who smells like—

He hisses through his teeth and feels someone breach his shields. His M-3 is pointed at the intruder before he has time to process Cora’s scent wrapping around him, but she’s faster than he is anyways, shoving the barrel down and away. She’s the first alpha he’s scented today and _not_ wanted to kill, and Scott’s so pathetically grateful for it that he whines.

“Oh, Scott,” she says, and the pity in her voice very nearly undoes his goodwill towards her. Being dumb as shit isn’t a disqualifying feature for being Pathfinder, not until it results in his death at least. But then she curls a palm over the back of his neck in a gesture that’s too intimate to be anything like pity, alpha to omega, and she says, “Let’s get you home.”

He’s sliding off the stool and standing before he realizes it, responding to the gentle command without it clicking that it _is_ a command in the first place. Her hand doesn’t leave the back of his neck as she steers him out of the bar, his biotics fizzling out with only a few thrown pieces of furniture to proclaim that he’d been there in the first place. They probably won’t let him back in the next time. Scott finds he really doesn’t care.

“Pathfinder,” SAM says, and he realizes that Cora’s talking to him.

“Sorry, I’m all—” He stumbles, talking and walking both taking up too much processing power when the only thing he _wants_ is to shove his pants down and bend over for any alpha that chooses to walk by. No, that’s not right. The scene in the bar proves he’ll kill any stranger that tries to approach. But if it were Liam, or Jaal, or maybe both of them and Evfra as well, he’d even make an exception for Cora despite being gay as the goddamn rainbow— “I’m—This isn’t good. This is bad, Cora.”

“I’ve got you,” she tells him, pushing him into the elevator and then over to stand next to the wall. It’ll stop at the bottom level of the port before raising the next level to the docks and he’s got to be smelling like a brothel at this point. Everyone will know and he’s so vulnerable that he wants to scream, but that’s a neon sign pointing every predator on the planet at him too.

Except Cora kicks the ‘close door’ button as soon as it tries to open again, her fingers never leaving the back of his neck, her body pressing his into the wall. Sheltering him. 

“It hurts.” He swallows, shudders again when the elevator starts moving upwards, can’t remember where his gun went or when he’d dropped it. It’s so hard to think straight and he’s _never_ had a heat come on to him like this, slamming into him with the intensity of a supernova. “It hurts so bad, Cora.”

“I’ve got you,” she repeats, pressing their foreheads together like she doesn’t care about getting a lungful of his scent. Scott can smell _himself_ at this point, the desperation reaching a fever pitch as he aches to be filled, and he knows that standing like this is dangerously close to triggering a responsive rut in her. Maybe that’s why Liam is staying far away. No good to have both of their combat-ready humans out of commission at the same time Scott is.

The elevator slows and stops just as he starts trying to sync his breathing to hers, just as he starts thinking about leaning in for a kiss anyways. Cora pulls away without taking her hand off his neck, then drags him down the docks towards the sleek shape of the Tempest. He’s expecting (dreading) the sight of Lexi standing at the lift into the ship. What he’s _not_ expecting is to see Jaal there, hovering anxiously as Evfra frowns on from behind him.

That’s much worse than Lexi dragging him off for testing.

“Cora,” he starts to say, panic setting in because Jaal is one thing, Jaal’s seen him like this before, but Scott really, really wants Evfra to respect him. Like him, maybe, sure, but respect him as an equal, not as the sexed up mess that everyone knows omegas _really_ are. This was the whole reason they didn’t want him to have a ship, wasn’t it? “Cora, I can’t—”

“Jaal will take care of you,” she says firmly, and her hand squeezes just slightly and he can’t help the way he goes a little more pliant. There’s only so much he can do in the face of biology.

And Jaal’s arms are warm and heavy when he wraps them around Scott’s shoulders, one hand smoothing down Scott’s back in a way basically designed to draw an embarrassing noise from him. Evfra is standing _right there_ , but Scott’s not able to stop himself from shoving his face up into Jaal’s jaw, breathing in the scent of him trapped in the muscle leading down to his collarbone. Angara males just smell so much _more_ alpha than humans do, alien skin mimicing the right mix of chemicals until Scott’s dumb horny brain is ready to party with any of them.

“He gets too antsy, put pressure on the muscles over the cervical vertebrae in his neck,” Cora says behind him, her hands no longer in place. “Old omega reflex, usually doesn’t work unless they’re sensitised already. Whatever they drugged him with, it’s not going to hit him like a normal heat, so I don’t know if sex is going to be enough. That’ll keep him relaxed and responsive to just about anything, so you can stop him from hurting himself.”

“And you think that will be necessary?” Jaal asks, sounding alarmed. His sonorous voice resonates through his throat in a way that makes Scott hum in response, his fingers already hunting for the clasps on Jaal’s armor. He needs, with a burn that threatens to eat him up alive, and that need is too much to leave room for the anxiety that ought to follow.

“It hurts,” he whispers, just as Cora says, “I don’t know. But just in case.”

“We’ll take care of him,” Evfra says from somewhere past Scott's range of vision. He remembers briefly that he’s supposed to be humiliated, but it's hard to hold onto things like that when Jaal’s weight is anchoring him down.

“Vetra and Drack are headed for the bar to review the surveillance footage and I’m going back down to join them.” Cora’s voice is tight, and he thinks maybe she should take a break before she ends up in a rutting rage. “Peebee and Liam are talking with the Collective, seeing if they know anything about this. We’ll catch whoever's manufacturing this shit and make sure it doesn't get out.”

“Uh,” Scott says, briefly distracted from the way Jaal’s skin tastes. “Wow. Okay, you really do like me.”

“Oh, _Scott_ ,” she says, and there's more exasperation than pity in her voice this time.

“Thank you, Cora,” Jaal tells her, one hand smoothing up Scott's back before curling around his neck and gently tugging him back to standing on his own two feet. That's a lot harder for him to manage now, since Jaal is right here and Scott's pretty determined to climb him like a fucking tree, but he keeps himself upright and only sways a little bit.

A foreign hand catches his arm when he sways a little too far toward Jaal and nearly falls, but the electrostatic hum says it's an angaran hand and he’s a lot more willing to trust those than human ones right now. Probably not a good instinct—plenty of angara have tried to kill him—but he remembers a second later that Evfra's here and apparently sticking around. For some reason. He's never gonna live this down, and the realization makes Scott whine unhappily low in his throat.

All three of them make a soft shushing noise simultaneously. Then Cora clears her throat and steps back, her boots audible as she makes the transition from the Tempest’s loading bay to the docks. “We’ll send what we find to SAM, to keep you updated.”

“Thank you,” Jaal says again, palm flexing on the back of Scott's neck in a way that makes him shudder with want. Evfra is still keeping him upright, and Evfra is the one that ends up tugging him forward, deeper into the dim recesses of the ship.

“Suvi—” Scott says, realizing belatedly that she might still be aboard. He really doesn't want to send her into a sympathetic heat, that's the last thing they need.

“Currently in the upper decks of the port, with Gil and Kallo accompanying her,” SAM says, audible to both Scott and his escorts. “They have been informed of what happened and will be careful.”

“Okay.” He lists sideways, hearing the soft sigh as Jaal straightens him this time. “Okay. Fuck.”

“Is it always like this for humans, or is that the drug?” Evfra asks, the question not directed at him. Scott tries to figure a way of answering anyways, even with his brain running like molasses.

“The drug, I think,” Jaal says for him, hand gentle as he guides Scott back towards his bedroom. “He was much more coherent the last time.”

“Ah, yes. That time you seduced my best soldier,” and that's absolutely directed at him, but with an edge of amusement and affection that sounds totally alien coming out of Evfra’s mouth. Scott stumbles as he tries to crane his head around to look at Evfra, just to see what kind of expression he's making.

“I like to think the seduction was mutual,” Jaal says, keeping him upright. And they're at the door, which slides open soundlessly, and Evfra is letting go of his arm, and he's starting to step back but Scott can't stop thinking about that hint of affection, can’t stop wondering if it's real or imagined. Can't help but hope the protective way Evfra watches Jaal might translate into something else, and maybe, just maybe, Scott might get the slightest drop of it for himself too.

“Stay?” he asks, catching Evfra’s hand before it can fully disengage. It's a surprising display of dexterity considering that Scott can't keep himself on his feet without assistance. “With us?”

Jaal’s hand twitches on the back of his neck, tightening just enough that Scott has to fight to keep his grip on Evfra’s hand, but he wants to hear a ‘no’ clear out before he lets go. Because otherwise he’ll always wonder if he got between the two of them without meaning to, if in another universe Jaal was sweet and loving and warm under Evfra’s hands instead of his own, and that’s going to kill him if he doesn’t get some kind of closure one way or another. He wants to hear it from either of them, both of them, before he can’t remember hearing it at all.

“It's your call,” Evfra says, and that throws Scott for a loop because he's the one that asked, isn't he? And then he hears Jaal sigh, very softly, and thinks _oh_.

“I would like you to join us.” Jaal's voice is deep with a hundred other implications and Scott is way too fucked up to actually pick up on most of them. There's a history between the two of them, one almost as powerful as the history between Jaal and Akksul, and he's struck by the sudden terror that he really _did_ get between them, that he ruined Jaal’s happy ending somehow in the pursuit of his own. “He asked, before either of us offered. Is that enough for you?”

Evfra's hand flexes in Scott's, webbed fingers curling under the spidery mess of human ones, and then he says, “It's enough. Show me your rooms, Ryder.”

“I’m making a rule.” Scott's delirious with victory and the abrupt loss of fear as he lets Jaal push him through the doors. “I’m Scott in here and no one else. It's definitely a rule now, enforceable and everything.”

“Are any of the rules on this ship enforceable?” Jaal asks, steering him towards the bed before letting go of him. He nearly topples over, tugged back onto his feet by Evfra a second later, and now that he's finally safe, Scott needs to be out of his clothes. Needed to be out of them ages ago.

“Lexi’s rules, sometimes.” Scott fights his way free of the jacket, leaning sideways as he drops it on the ground, finding himself dragged into the armored curve of Evfra’s body when he almost falls again. Coordination is not his strong suit right now. “SAM, can you, fuck, lock the door for—well, everyone but Evfra and Jaal, I guess. Don’t let me out.”

“I will lock the other doors in the ship to you,” SAM says from the desk as Evfra sighs and helps him out of his shirt, his palms cool against Scott’s overheated skin. “Presumably, you will take care of your other needs at some point.”

“Yeah, but, Suvi, and everyone else?” Scott doesn’t know how to phrase it as anything but a question, not when he’s already distracted by the complicated mixture of fabric and leather that Evfra’s chest piece consists of. He’s wearing too many clothes, all of them are wearing too many clothes, and Scott is not nearly functional enough to get them out of their clothes without help.

“Liam, Suvi, and Cora will be able to manage, while the rest of the crew should be unaffected,” SAM says patiently, politely ignoring the way Scott growls in frustration over Evfra’s buckles. They’re not the same design as Jaal’s, and he can hear the soft chuckle from behind him moments before Jaal takes over.

“Here,” Jaal says, knocking his hands away as Evfra finishes what fumbling work Scott had started on his chest. With them trapping him on either side, Scott’s not at risk of falling over, so he embraces the freedom to lean back against Jaal’s body, reaching greedy hands towards the soft blue skin getting revealed instead. “Your balance was better last time.”

“I wasn’t drugged last time,” Scott shoots back, but he can’t even pretend to be angry when Jaal’s doing exactly what he wants. Evfra’s hands catch him around the jaw, tugging him into a kiss that makes Scott moan with eager desperation. He’s wet and empty and he _needs_ it, needs it badly enough that he’d beg for anyone—but there’s something so right about it being Jaal and Evfra, the heady scent of angaran males so like human alphas but also so much _more_.

Jaal’s hands smooth over his hips, pushing his pants down. It sounds like he’s saying something else, but Scott is tangled up in the taste of Evfra’s scarred mouth, the bluntness of his teeth and the lazy sweeps of his tongue. Probably isn’t that important anyways, not when Jaal’s dragging his briefs down too and his fingers find Scott’s hole. Evfra pulls away at the same moment, so there’s nothing to muffle the way Scott moans at that and tries to push back into the touch.

“Your shoes, R—Scott.” Evfra huffs when Scott does absolutely nothing useful and tries to pull him back into another kiss. Shoes aren’t his problem right now, the fact that Jaal hasn’t given him more than that light touch is his _real_ problem. “ _Scott_.”

“Literally the last thing I care about right now,” Scott says breathlessly, braced against Evfra’s chest as he feels Jaal steady him from behind.

“If we move to the bed, we can stop trying to keep him upright,” Jaal points out. Considering that Jaal’s hands are the only thing keeping him on his feet, and considering that the pants shoved down his thighs are going to prevent him from going anywhere on his own terms, Scott thinks this is a fantastic idea.

“And maybe he’ll stop helping?” Evfra asks, his voice dry. His hands aren’t moving from Scott’s face though, and his mouth brushes against Scott’s with every word.

“Do you want me to stop helping?” Scott aims for joking but ends up somewhere in the range of eager and honest instead, his body caught between conflicting urges. He wants to push up into Evfra’s hands, wants to drink in that intoxicating scent and the casual competence, and wants to fall back into Jaal’s familiar arms at the same time, knowing just how good it will feel. He _aches_ , relentlessly, and he can’t stop himself from whining when he realizes he can’t accomplish both things at the same time.

“Oh, for—” Evfra’s exasperated groan ends up with him pulling away, pushing Scott into Jaal’s hands. He strips much more efficiently without help—so maybe Scott really was the problem there—but Jaal’s hands on his skin distract him before Scott can truly enjoy the view. Because Jaal knows exactly how his body works, palms his dick with ease as he half-lifts, half-drags him to the bed. There’s so much power in his body that Scott practically melts, ruts up into Jaal’s hand and lets himself be spilled across the sheets.

He makes a plaintive noise when Jaal’s hands leave for his boots and pants, tugging both off. The weight of Evfra’s body on the mattress makes a divot, pulling Scott in like a meteor, all gravitational force and draw. There’s more scars on his body, the brutal pockmarks and burns of old gunfights, a matching set of doubled lines like he’d been struck across the thigh by the same thing that cut up his face. Scott wonders, in a distant sort of way, if the angara scar more easily than humans do.

His hand is clumsy when he spreads his fingers over the scar on Evfra’s thigh, the hum of static under his skin almost as appealing as the alpha scent that keeps fooling Scott’s brain. Evfra’s hands are much more deft when they haul Scott up into his lap, the knobs of his collarbone digging into the muscle of Scott’s back. From this angle, he can’t see Evfra’s face, but he _can_ feel the slick hardness of Evfra’s cock pushing up out of his slit. Scott groans, spreading his legs wide and rocking back against it, hearing the way Evfra huffs softly and readjusts him.

“You’re not so different from us after all,” Evfra says, his hands dragging over Scott’s chest and down to the flushed curve of his dick. “Everything else aside. The real question is, will both of us fit?”

“Oh,” Scott breathes, a sudden and wonderful future expanding out in front of him. Jaal is undressing with the casual efficiency that Scott’s come to love and Evfra is keeping him spread out and on display, and this is—if he were going to come up with the best outcome for a heat, getting tag-teamed by alphas would be it. Taking both of them at the same time? Not even in his wildest dreams would he dare ask for that. “Oh, yes, oh fuck yes, you have to do that now.”

Evfra’s hand curls around his dick, sliding over his skin in a way that makes Scott squirm, and he snorts softly in amusement at the way Scott shudders under his touch. “And you’re a good judge of that, are you?”

The noise Scott makes is as pleading as it is affirmative, his back arching as he rocks up into Evfra’s palm. He can’t stop himself from talking, his grip fumbling on Evfra’s arm as he pleads, “I am just, the best judge of—oh fuck—yeah we need to do that. Right now. _Please_.”

Before he can work himself up into something more than desperation, Jaal moves into the space between his legs, his finger and thumb catching Scott’s chin and holding his head in place. He’s too hot and too cold simultaneously, caught between two cooler bodies when his own is feverish, and the hand on him is good but it’s not _enough_. There’s an emptiness in him that aches to be filled, and he needs it, needs them, so badly that he can barely breathe.

“We will take care of you, darling one,” Jaal says, and Scott’s heart stutters in his chest. Then Jaal’s adoring gaze shifts past him as he says, “I’ve never done this with more than one person before.”

“The youth is never as adventurous as they used to be,” Evfra grouses, and when he shifts, his cock grinds up between Scott’s cheeks to the sound of his pleading whine. The ridges along its length catch against him, getting slicker just because of how wet he is, and it’s a goddamn _crime_ that Evfra hasn’t started fucking him yet.

“You’re not that old, Evfra,” Jaal tells him, palm sliding over the column of Scott’s throat with an electromagnetic hum. Scott swallows another moan as Evfra’s hands move to his hips, his head tipping to make room for Jaal’s touch, and it’s all he can do to stay upright when his fingers curl over the back of his neck again. 

“Ha. I feel like you used to respect me more.” Evfra’s grip moves, the shaft of his cock dragging against Scott’s hole again, and before Scott can complain about them _teasing him_ , Evfra thrusts up into him, seating himself fully in one smooth motion.

“Oh, fu— _Jaal_ —” Scott gasps, clenching around the sudden intrusion. It’s the wrong name, but Evfra’s doesn’t fall off his tongue so easily and he can see Jaal’s amused smile in front of him, feel Jaal’s hand curving over his neck, keeping him pliant.

“I will never tire of hearing that,” Jaal says, his lips brushing Scott’s own. He’s helpless to do anything but open up under the kiss, desperate, hungry noises slipping free as he feels Evfra roll his hips up. A hand catches his knee, tugging his leg up and leaving him open as Evfra’s cock slides easily into him, and Scott gasps when Jaal finally lets him breathe again. “Like this?”

“Like that,” Evfra says, hips rocking and driving a choked moan out of him. There's no chance for Scott to give his opinion, because the next time Evfra thrusts, the tip of Jaal’s cock joins him, pushing up past the tight ring of muscle in a way that makes him keen.

He grabs for Jaal’s chest, hands skating over the alien configuration of muscle and bone, fumbling for anything he can reach. Behind him, Evfra groans softly, and he can hear the way Jaal’s breath hitches as he pushes deeper, his thick shaft forcing Scott open. It’s everything he’s ever wanted, his body stretching easily open around them both, the burn under his skin finally dampened, and he lets out a wordless plea when Jaal bottoms out inside him and stills.

“That’s—” Jaal’s breath shudders, a tremble running through him under Scott’s palms as his grip shifts and gets a more secure handhold. The static humming under his skin matches the hum under Evfra’s, and Scott is caught in a loop of energy and feeling, one that has him sparking like an ungrounded wire. He needs one of them to fucking _move_ , because it feels so good to be filled by them both but the burn is coming back and he _needs_ with an intensity brighter than any sun.

“It is,” Evfra agrees, his voice catching, and then he rocks his hips slightly and all three of them groan. “He won’t break if you move, taoshay.”

It doesn’t translate properly but Scott knows what that means anyways, knows what it means for Evfra to say it to Jaal, and he wants to focus on that and twist around and ask but— “Oh fuck, _please_ Jaal.”

Jaal huffs very softly, either a laugh or a silent groan, his fingers squeezing the back of Scott’s neck in a way that makes him whine. Then he drags his cock out, just far enough that Scott is afraid he might actually withdraw, before thrusting forward again, splitting Scott in half and making Evfra shudder underneath him. Just like that, everything tips over from not quite enough to entirely too much, the roll of Jaal’s hips a counterpoint to the shallow thrusts of Evfra’s cock and Scott is—

The ragged cry he lets out as he comes is as desperate as it is relieved, his muscles tightening as he pushes his head back into Jaal’s hand. Part of him longs to feel teeth in his skin, hungers for it as badly as he hungers for the knot that will truly satisfy him, but it’s the first time he’s felt capable of _thinking_ since Cora dragged him out of the bar. Without the fog of heat clouding his mind, he can really assess what he’s doing.

He clenches around the cocks inside him, feeling the way Jaal’s rhythm stutters, and commits to not thinking at all. One hand catches on Jaal’s chest, the other groping for Evfra’s hand where it’s bruisingly tight on his hip, and he arches into their thrusts as he moans, “Just like that, yeah, _fuck_ you feel so good inside me.”

Evfra says something untranslatable that he tries to memorize anyways, something that accompanies a sharp thrust up that chokes whatever reply Scott might make. Jaal’s breath is hot against his cheek, the heavy muscle of his body trapping him against Evfra more effectively than any cage, and this is all _right_ in a way that makes him want to slip back into that haze of unthinking eagerness. 

He feels Evfra’s hand shift, dragging up his chest and over the come smeared between him and Jaal. For a breathless second, Scott has the mind to wonder why he’s bothering, then gravity upends itself as they both tip backwards, Jaal following close behind with his grip still firm over the back of Scott’s neck. The sudden shift in angle dislodges Scott’s legs, has him wrapping them around Jaal’s waist in a panic, and at first he can’t figure out why they moved at all.

Then Evfra’s hips snap up in a hard thrust, Jaal’s cock driving deep into him a bare second later, and Scott’s pretty sure he’s seen heaven. His voice cracks on a wordless shout of pleasure as he tries to arch between them, still caught in the cage of their bodies, Evfra’s firm hold on him matched by the way Jaal bends in him half. 

He can't think, can't breathe, can only shudder in their combined grip as both of them work to find a rhythm inside him. There’s never a moment where he feels empty, both cocks fucking up into him slightly out of beat with each other, the ridges along them catching on the ring of tight muscle. He’s stopped making sense ages ago, can only let out soft hitching gasps as Jaal pushes him down and drives himself in to the hilt.

From behind him, Evfra swears, while above Jaal groans helplessly and grinds deep. It’s not an alpha’s knot, not quite, but the swelling at the base of Jaal’s cock is close enough that Scott’s body doesn’t care. It’s what he wants, what he _needs_ , and he sobs with relief as the pressure of it snaps through him like lightning, his hips jerking helplessly despite being pinned down.

And then Evfra swears again, thrusting up as his own knot begins to swell, and Scott comes so hard he can’t hear anything else past the ringing in his ears.

The fingers curled over his neck gentle as Jaal’s grip softens, his thumb shifting and pushing up into the curve of Scott’s ear. Evfra’s hands smooth over his ribcage, moving in slow, soothing circles. It takes longer than it should for Scott to realize that he’s crying, his entire body trembling from the onslaught of stimulus even as he clenches desperately on the knots buried deep inside him.

“I’m good, I’m good,” he gasps, his breath hitching on another near-silent sob as Jaal shifts his weight and grinds into him. “This is good, I promise, oh fuck you feel so—”

“Hush, my heart,” Jaal says, but there’s not even a hint of scolding in his voice. He sounds warm, fond, and maybe a little bit worried, but in a way where his touch settles Scott instead of winding him up further. For the first time since he stepped out of the bar, it feels like things will be okay.

“It seems we could fit after all.” Evfra’s voice is low in his ear, quietly approving in a way that spills through Scott like sunlight after a storm. He shudders, feeling the way Evfra’s breathing goes shaky for a second as his hips grind up. “Well done.”

The quiet, broken noise he makes gets an answering hum from Jaal, soft and reassuring. He can feel Evfra huffing out a laugh, his fingers splaying out as he holds Scott close. Not that he’s planning on going anywhere, but his alphas clearly have no intention of letting him move. It’s such a _relief_ knowing that he can leave things in their hands and stop worrying about it all.

“How long will this last?” Evfra asks over his shoulder. Scott can feel the need building up in his bones again, like a fire rekindling from embers, and he clenches around them both, just to feel the way their knots stretch him wide open.

“At least a few days,” Jaal murmurs before pressing a kiss to his sweaty temple. “How do you feel, darling one?”

“I’m going to die if you don’t keep fucking me,” Scott says, breathless and desperate and so utterly grateful that they’ve decided to keep him around. Especially when Jaal pushes his legs a little higher and rocks his hips forward, filling him up while Evfra groans quietly underneath him.

“A few days,” he repeats as Scott whimpers very quietly.

“I think we can manage that,” Evfra says, and it sounds a lot like a promise.


End file.
